


Off the Books

by NeurotropicAgentX



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: And Other Dubious Activities of Varying Legality, Backstory, It's Free Real Estate, M/M, Murder, Pre-Canon, Rare Pair, Villains, past homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 07:40:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17597105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeurotropicAgentX/pseuds/NeurotropicAgentX
Summary: Treece was pretty sure companies like the Life Foundation were meant to go through reputable security firms and not hire shady ex-mercenaries off the street. But Drake wasn’t unprepared. He knew more about Treece’s background than he had any right to. Treece just hoped that the dossier with his medical records and the details about his dishonourable discharge didn’t contain any hints about the one thing hereallycared about hiding.





	Off the Books

**Author's Note:**

> So my editor idly asks me about Drake’s disposable goons. ‘Does he hire them from a firm or employ them directly?’ Like an idiot, I think about it. And now I have 8k of backstory. Anyway, many thanks to her for the invaluable editing.

Treece sat in the office’s reception area and tried not to think about how weird this was. Admittedly he hadn’t dealt with formal bureaucracy for a couple of decades, but he was pretty sure security consultants weren’t interviewed by the goddamn CEO of a company like the Life Foundation. Didn’t they have people for this kind of stuff? 

‘Mr Drake will see you now,’ the secretary said in a cool voice. She hadn’t so much as glanced over at him since he’d taken a seat. He’d returned the favour, dealing with the uncomfortable prickling beneath his skin by assessing the exits and drawing sniper trajectories through the windows with his gaze. Going around without a firearm made him feel unanchored, like he was in danger of drifting away.

‘Thanks,’ he muttered as he made his way through to Drake’s office. It was a nice office. He could tell that much. There were huge windows dominating the back wall and even a good sniper would find it hard setting up a shot with how much taller this building was compared to its surrounds. All the furniture was modern and sleek and the large desk was uncluttered. Drake’s computer looked like something out of a spaceship. 

The man himself rose as Treece walked in and came around the desk to shake hands. Only years of practice kept Treece from staring. Drake looked good. Unfairly good. He had fine, well-balanced features and a warm, friendly smile. His suit, which probably cost more than Treece had earned in the last year, showed off a trim figure. But more than that, Treece found himself caught by Drake’s dark eyes. They were compelling, the force of his gaze almost hypnotic. It was an effort for Treece to hide his reaction, but in his world it was very, very dangerous to show that kind of interest in another man.

‘Mr Treece, I presume?’ Drake smiled as he held out his hand. ‘I’m Carlton Drake. Please take a seat.’

Treece returned the firm handshake. It was a point of pride that his hands never shook. Not when he was taking a shot under fire, not when he needed to stitch himself up, and certainly not when shaking hands with unusually attractive men. 

‘Yes. Thanks for meeting with me,’ Treece replied. 

They both took their seats and Drake flipped open the thick folder on his desk. Treece recognised his application as the top piece of paper. Drake set it aside and picked up the next document. ‘Six years of service in the US military, followed by a dishonourable discharge.’

Treece blinked. That hadn’t been on his application. It probably wasn’t too hard for someone with Drake’s resources to get access to his military record, but Treece didn’t like it. He knew what his history looked like on paper and it wasn’t the sort of history that led to jobs with big, public companies with shiny reputations. ‘There was a… misunderstanding,’ Treece said slowly.

‘So I understand,’ Drake said with a thin smile. The expression had an edge to it and a lot less warmth than his first smile and it _still_ made Treece's pulse jump. Fuck. He hadn't had it this bad in a long time. 

‘Following that,’ Drake continued, flipping through the next document in the folder, ‘you ended up as a mercenary. A successful one, by the look of it, with deployments across… three continents.’ He looked back up at Treece and raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you speak any other languages?’

Treece bit back a retort about Drake probably knowing that better than him. His old military record was one thing, but Drake finding out about his mercenary work was disturbing. And three continents? How the hell had gotten info on the mission in sub-Saharan Africa? That one was buried deep, so far off any books that no one should have been able to dig it up. Treece realised that Drake was still waiting for an answer. 

‘I’ve got a smattering of half a dozen languages, nothing close to conversational.’ He could say things like ‘drop the fucking weapon’ in a dozen more, but that probably wasn’t relevant here. Treece was pretty sure companies like this were meant to go through reputable security firms and not hire ex-mercenaries off the street. But Drake wasn’t unprepared. He knew more about Treece’s background than he had any right to.

‘So why did you come back to San Francisco? There’s nothing in your medical records to indicate it was necessity. You also don’t appear to have any strong family ties to draw you back.’

Treece forced his jaw to unclench. ‘You certainly seem to know a lot about me,’ he finally said. 

‘I do my research. Does that bother you?’ Drake asked, lacing his hands beneath his chin and leaning forward.

Short answer, yes. But Treece took a deep breath and thought it through. This was clearly some strange power-play, but what was the point? He _knew_ someone with Drake’s resources was a threat in this kind of environment, the way some guerrilla with a submachine gun was a threat in the sorts of environments Treece was used to. A reminder was hardly necessary. Then again, getting access to Treece’s medical records couldn’t have been entirely legal. Maybe that was the point. Drake was showing that he willing to go that far.

It suddenly slotted into place. The CEO of the company itself, interviewing a guy with a past as shady as Treece’s. Looking for private security that would probably end up reporting directly to him. What was that he’d said? No ‘strong family ties’. Someone who wouldn’t be missed. Treece leaned forward as well and looked Drake right in the eyes. ‘No, it doesn’t bother me,’ he said. ‘I’m a hard guy to bother.’

Drake’s answering smile was small, but it reached his eyes. ‘I’m glad to hear that. And I really am curious about what prompted your change in career goals.’

Treece snorted. He’d hardly call mercenary work a _career_. ‘That kind of work is a young man’s game. Field rations, sleeping rough and enemy fire catch up with you sooner or later. You don’t get old mercenaries. I decided to get out before I got taken out. My… agent… floated your business’ recruitment offer. I wasn’t sure how she saw it, let alone why she passed it on to me, but I think I’m beginning to understand.’

‘I know the sort of places to advertise to find the right person for the job.’

I’ll bet you do, Treece thought to himself. The same place he found people who’d dig through sealed records. ‘I have a couple of questions about the job, if you don’t mind,’ Treece said.

Drake spread his hands in an open, friendly gesture. ‘Of course, what would you like to know?’

Treece wasn’t about to ask if his suspicions were right. He understood about plausible deniability just fine. However, the job description had been a bit vague about some of the logistics. ‘Your ad said you were looking for a head of security. If I get the job, is there a team in place?’

Drake tilted one of his hands back and forth. ‘Security at the Life Foundation is currently being supplied by an external agency. If your application is successful, you’ll be managing a team of their personnel. However, my ultimate goal is to have one hundred percent of the security force as direct employees of the Life Foundation. I’ll expect you to handle recruitment and put together your own team. They’ll all be working directly under you, after all.’

‘You want your own private security force.’

Drake didn’t blink. ‘Yes. I’ve explained to the Board that external operators aren’t subject to the same benefits as direct Life Foundation employees. My company has an excellent relationship with the union and I would like every member to feel like they’re really _part_ of the Foundation.’

‘That’s what you tell the Board,’ Treece repeated neutrally. 

Drake’s smile deepened. ‘Those exact words.’

Treece drummed his fingers on the desk. He felt a lot more comfortable now that he understood the situation. Shady deals from shady employers were normal, familiar. Sure the location and window-dressing were different, but the substance was the same. He was a little curious about the sort of people Drake wanted dead. ‘If you like my application, and whatever else you have on me in that folder of yours, I’ll take the job.’

Drake extended his hand over the desk. ‘Then welcome aboard, Mr Treece. HR will be in contact with you in the next couple of days.’ 

///

Treece kept his eyes on the sea of journalists. Drake was giving a press talk about some new treatment for a disease Treece had never heard of. Treece was an unobtrusive presence off to the right behind the podium. Several other security people were situated at strategic locations, also keeping an eye on the crowd. They were half people from the private firm and half Treece’s own recruits, but each one here was handpicked for competence and presentability. The people Treece had started filling out his team tended to have histories similar to his. They were the sort of people who were good at violence and good at keeping their mouths shut, but not all of them were good at looking like professional security.

There wasn’t any danger in this room. Treece’s instincts were good and he was sure none of these reporters or camera crews were about to attack. Drake was important, sure, but he was a CEO, not the sort of person who had to worry about assassination attempts. If it weren’t for the vague hints during the interview, Treece would have been filling the ranks with actual security professionals instead of... professionals. 

‘I’ll take two more questions, but then I have to wrap this up,’ Drake said. 

Treece glanced over at his employer. Drake had a certain way of acting when he was in front of the cameras. A lot of the strange intensity that lurked in his eyes was hidden away and his manner was completely friendly and open. He wore what Treece privately thought of as his PR smile. Everything about him said ‘trust me’ in a calm, insistent kind of way. 

Treece realised he’d been staring and went back to scanning the room. It was easy to fall into a watchful, semi-meditative trance. The same one he’d used halfway across the globe, sighting down a rifle and picking off enemies. Treece had surprised himself by genuinely enjoying the work he was doing here. He got a lot of decision-making power handed down to him from Drake and, when he wasn’t doing this kind of direct overseeing, there were interesting logistical problems to work through.

It was also nice going armed again in his day-to-day life. He was pretty sure the Life Foundation’s policies about ‘bringing your own device’ was an electronic security issue and didn’t apply to the handgun sitting in Treece’s shoulder holster. The rest of the team carried as well, but most of their weapons were supplied by the Foundation.

‘Alright. Thank you all for your time. The press release will be available after this meeting and any further questions can be directed to Ms Hadzhieva,’ Drake said and made his way toward the exit.

Some hopefuls called out further questions, but didn’t try getting in Drake’s face. Two of Treece’s people left their posts to shadow Drake out of the room. The rest stayed to keep an eye on the media reps and make sure none of them got ‘lost’ on their way out. One of the private firm’s more senior employees walked over to Treece.

‘Sir? There’s been a change in the Friday school tour. Can I discuss it with you after this?’

Treece nodded, sparing her a quick glance. It was still weird being called ‘sir’ all the time. ‘Sure, Louise. Swing by my office when this lot are cleared out.’ 

Her nod was the briefest duck of the head. She was ex-military, like him, and would probably have been more comfortable with a salute.

Treece left when about half the journalists and camera crews had gone. His people were more than capable of looking after the rest and there was a pile of paperwork on his desk. Not to mention whatever issue Louise was going to bring him.

Treece’s office was located just outside central security where the CCTV feed played out. There were cameras all over the Life Foundation with expected exceptions like the bathrooms and breakrooms, and a couple of unexpected exceptions like Drake’s office and the basement labs. The basement labs had double the security patrols, and Treece made sure only his handpicked people ever walked the route. It didn’t take a genius to work out why Drake had insisted on that.

Louise knocked on the doorframe half an hour later.

‘What’s this about the school?’ Treece asked without preamble.

‘The excursion’s been brought forward to tomorrow. I’ve talked to reception about having the extra visitor passes ready, but you’ll probably want to reshuffle the roster to put the extra personnel on level three in the morning.’

He nodded. ‘Good thinking. I’ll get on that. Did the school give any reason or do they just like making our lives difficult?’ 

Louise’s lip twitched. It was practically a laugh from her. ‘No sir.’

Treece leaned back in his chair. ‘And have you given any more thought to my offer?’

Louise shifted her weight to her other foot, not quite a combat-ready stance. ‘I’ve been with my firm for half a decade.’

‘And it shows. You’re one of the most professional members on their payroll. You know how to act like real security rather than a thug in a uniform.’

More importantly, Treece was also certain that she wouldn’t have any issues with the sort of jobs the Life Foundation might need done. Drake had given him permission to head-hunt anyone from the current security team that met the specifications, and Louise was one of a few promising candidates. 

She let out a long breath and ran hand through her close-cropped hair. ‘Anyone else and I’d think you were making a comment about me having tits.’

Treece froze. He worked hard at appearing straight, learned to look at women when other men looked. Learned to leer, learned what sort of comments to make and when. But he didn’t bother going to that much effort on the job. Maybe he should have. No, he was being paranoid. She couldn’t know about him, couldn’t have guessed. ‘You know I see you as one of the lads,’ he said quickly.

She waved away the comment, oblivious to his panic. ‘Yeah, and that’s what’s tempting about the offer. Not just the paycheque, but the _rank_. I’m pretty fucking tired of seeing juniors promoted ahead of me.’

Treece relaxed slightly. ‘What can I say? I need someone who can lead thugs and keep them in line. You fit the bill.’

She grunted. ‘You’ll have my answer next week.’

///

When the call from Drake finally came, Treece felt a familiar calmness settle over him. His shoulders loosened as a weird tension he hadn’t realised he’d been carrying eased. The instructions were simple: come to basement two and bring a couple of your own people. Trustworthy people. There’s a disposal job.

It was easy enough to read between the lines. Treece ducked out of his office and went to see who was available. Most of his team was out patrolling the building along the carefully randomised routes he’d designed, but he always kept a few close by in case of emergencies. They were occupied with monitoring the security feeds, but Treece didn’t insist on completely focused non-stop vigilance. That wasn’t exactly what they were here for. Louise was among the half dozen or so people watching the screens. Perfect. Treece wanted professional-looking people at his back if he was going to interact with other departments. He was glad she’d decided to sign on with the Life Foundation directly. 

‘Sam? Take whoever you need and go clear the service entrance near the basement carpark. I want discreet transport waiting for me there in fifteen minutes. Tinted windows. Big trunk.’ 

‘Right, Boss,’ she said.

‘Louise, Kim, you’re with me. We’re getting rid of a problem.’ The two of them fell into step beside him with brief nods. They didn’t ask for details. He was pretty sure they could read between the lines too.

The basement they arrived in was a lab. It was well lit and as sleek and modern as Drake’s office had been. An unhappy-looking scientist met them at the elevator. ‘This way please,’ she said. Treece made the effort to give her a slow once over and smirk at her. She stiffened and took a step closer to Louise. Her shoulders were tense when she turned to lead them deeper into the lab. The three of them followed silently. The place was nearly deserted, but all the glass made Treece’s shoulderblades itch. Nowhere to take cover. 

The dead body wasn’t a surprise. Drake’s presence was. What the hell was the point of having private security if you didn’t use it for plausible deniability? Treece watched Kim and Louise out of the corner of his eye. Neither of them seemed surprised by the body and neither of the showed even a hint of discomfort. Good. He’d judged them right.

He consulted his mental map of the building. ‘Service entrance is through there, left turn, right turn. Meet Sam in the carpark. It should be clear, but keep your eyes open. I’ll meet you there when you’re loaded up.’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Louise.

Drake stared silently at the body until it was taken out of sight. Treece frowned. He hadn’t pegged Drake as the morbid type who got a thrill out of death. There had been no shortage of them in the mercenary business. They were collectively known as ‘those weirdos’ to the more professional types like Treece. You couldn’t trust them on the battlefield, they got _invested_ , even going so far as to draw out a kill. Usually at the worst possible moment. But Drake wasn’t smiling. His expression was closed off, cold, like it had been carved from stone.

Then he spoke. ‘I can promise you that it’s worth it,’ he said quietly, still staring at the door Louise and Kim had left through. He almost seemed to be talking to himself. ‘This was utterly necessary and will achieve real, measurable good in the world.’

Then he looked over at Treece. Fuck. How had he mistaken that expression for cold? Drake’s eyes _burned_. It reminded Treece of the scorching desert sun that beat down as mercilessly on him as on the people who were trying to shoot him. He cleared his throat, feeling off balance. ‘I’m not sure why you expect me to care either way, sir.’

Drake blinked, finally, and some of the intensity left his eyes. ‘No, you wouldn’t care,' he said slowly. A ghost of his PR smile twitched across his lips. ‘What must that be like?’

Treece was pretty sure the question was rhetorical. He shrugged.

‘Come see me in my office when you’re done with all of this.’

‘Yes sir,’ Treece said and left to oversee the disposal. 

///

Treece hadn’t been up to Drake’s office since the interview. The secretary waved him in directly. She was slightly less frosty this time, probably because he was wearing the company uniform. 

Drake was looking out the windows with his hands clasped behind his back, but his stance wasn’t remotely military. Once again, Treece was struck by just how different Drake was from the people in Treece’s world. 

‘So, the disposal went smoothly?’ Drake asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Where’s the dump-site?’

For a moment Treece just stared at Drake. ‘You know the point of having a private security team is plausible deniability. So you don’t _have_ to know that kind of thing. Sir.’

Drake still hadn’t turned around and Treece couldn’t see his face. ‘I don’t need plausible deniability. I need competent staff who can do a job well and not get caught. And I’m not in the habit of playing pretend. So I’ll ask again. _Where_?’

Treece glanced away as if Drake’s eyes were on him. He outlined the mission and filled in any extra details when he was pressed for them.

‘Good,’ said Drake. ‘And none of your people had a problem with it?’

Treece could hear the question behind the question. Drake was also asking if _Treece_ had a problem with body disposals. For a second he wondered what would happen if he said he did. Would he get disappeared? What if he swore to keep quiet? Would Drake let him walk away? It wasn’t like the man lacked dirt on him to use as leverage. But questions like that didn’t really matter in the end. 

‘It’s what you pay us for,’ Treece said truthfully. The gig also paid a lot better than other jobs he’d had that came with uglier duties.

Drake turned around to face him. He was smiling. ‘Quite.’ Treece’s mouth went dry as Drake crossed the room toward him. ‘You can expect a bonus in your paycheque for your exemplary performance today.’

Treece hesitated. Things were clear between them and he was nearly sure that Drake knew how far Treece was willing to go, knew just what he was capable of. ‘I’m good at any type of disposal,’ he found himself saying, ‘at any stage of the process. Whatever needs to get done.’

Drake’s smile deepened. There was something just a little bit off about the expression that would have made it unsuitable for the cameras. It made Treece think dangerous, unprofessional thoughts.

Drake stepped closer again until he just on the edge of invading Treece’s personal space. ‘I’m very glad to hear that. I’m a great believer in doing what needs to be done.’ He was staring again, like he was reading something tattooed on the inside of Treece’s skull.

‘I gathered that, sir,’ Treece said, his voice a little hoarse. 

Drake clapped Treece on the arm. The sudden contact had Treece reeling. He shouldn’t have been able to feel the warmth of Drake’s hand through the fabric of his uniform, but the touch seemed to burn against his skin. He stood frozen, barely daring to breathe, and then Drake was gently propelling him toward the door. ‘You seem to be settling in well. I think you’re an excellent fit for the position and I’ll keep you in mind the next time I have any issues that need to be resolved… efficiently.’

Treece let Drake lead him toward the exit. Drake’s words were drowned out beneath a tide of staticky panic rising in Treece’s head. _Does he know? Does he know? Does he know?_

In Treece’s experience, men did not do this kind of friendly, casual contact. Was this a test? Was it just intimidation? Or maybe, _maybe_ …

Making assumptions was dangerous and a great way to get yourself beaten up or worse. He’d learned that lesson the hard way. But this was the big city, right? It wasn’t even illegal here, like it was in some of the places Treece had worked. And Drake… Drake looked good, _worked_ at looking good, in way no one in Treece’s world ever did. The guy even _smelled_ good. 

Treece had completely missed whatever Drake had been saying during those last few moments. ‘Thank you, sir,’ he said neutrally, figuring it was a safe enough response.

The smile hovering on Drake’s lips didn’t shift an inch. ‘You’re welcome.’

///

Treece stood in the dim blue lighting of the basement labs and sighed. ‘I’m glad you brought me in on this, but I think this is above both our pay grades.’

Louise nodded once. She was holding a handcuffed reporter by one arm and sporting a black eye. The reporter was considerably more dishevelled. Treece was surprised any civilian had managed to land a hit on her.

‘Look, I get that this is your job,’ the reporter said, ‘but you need to see what this place is actually doing. Two corridors down, and turn left. There are prisoners here. Actual human beings held against their will. They’re being experimented on like lab animals. Do you want to go down in history as the people who helped a second Dr Mengele?’

Louise snorted. ‘They’re no one I know,’ she said.

Treece didn’t bother commenting. It was never worth engaging. He had a pretty good idea about the sort of stuff that happened in the basement labs, even if he didn’t know the details or the purpose. But people dying was hardly new and whatever Drake was doing down here felt slightly less pointless than the sort of death Treece was more familiar with. He’d seen kids starving by the side of a dirt road in the middle of goddamn nowhere and only felt a mild relief that they weren’t a group of child soldiers ready to gun him down. This was practically civilised. 

‘You... you know?’ The reporter gaped.

‘Don’t bother engaging with her,’ Treece said firmly to Louise. ‘Take her to one of the holding cells. I’m sure there’ll be a free one.’

‘Holding cells? Are you hearing yourself?!’ 

‘Right, sir,’ said Louise. She shifted a little uncomfortably. ‘I forgot how stupid civilians fight. I wasn’t expecting her to throw a punch at my _face_. She probably fucked up her hand.’

Treece realised he’d been staring at her injury. He glanced away and snorted. ‘I’m sure you’ll remember next time. Go get that iced when you're done.’

Louise nodded and hauled off the reporter who was still swearing and pleading by turns. Treece called through to Drake’s office once they were out of earshot. 

‘It’s Roland Treece,’ he told the secretary. 

‘Putting you through,’ she said.

Treece blinked. That was fast. He hadn’t had a reason to bother Drake before, but he supposed it made sense that he got priority as the head of security. 

‘Hi Roland, what can I do for you?’ Drake voice sounded calm and smooth over the connection.

‘There’s been a security breach in the basement labs. One of my people got the situation under control, but there’s still a loose end to wrap up. I figured you’d know what you wanted done.’ There. That was vague enough over a potentially unsecured connection. He hoped Drake would get it.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then Drake spoke again in that same even tone. ‘How many loose ends, exactly?’ 

‘Just the one.’

‘I’ll be down there shortly,’ said Drake. 

‘You don’t have to…’ Treece started to say and then caught himself. Drake probably wasn’t about to give clear instructions unless they were face to face. ‘See you then.’

‘Yes, you will,’ Drake replied, sounding amused. 

Louise came back after a few more minutes. ‘She’s in holding cell eight. I’m going to find some ice.’

Treece waved her off and started pacing. He knew what was coming and he wasn’t even _bothered_ exactly. This was what he’d signed up for, what he’d _offered_ Drake, back when he’d asked about that first disposal. 

Drake’s arrival interrupted Treece’s thoughts. ‘Show me,’ was all he said. 

Treece turned around and walked silently toward holding cell eight. 

The reported stopped struggling against the restraints when she saw Drake standing on the other side of the glass. Drake stared at her, like he was trying to memorise her face.

‘A reporter?’ he asked, without taking his eyes off her.

‘Yeah. Louise caught her snooping around. We confiscated her camera. She had pictures and seemed to know what was going on down here.’

Drake’s expression darkened. ‘An inside source perhaps,’ he murmured. ‘I’ll look into it personally.’ He sighed and turned to face Treece. ‘I want you to take her away from here and kill her.’

Treece’s pulse kicked up and reassuring pre-battle adrenaline flooded his body. It felt good, familiar, even if this was going to be cold-blooded and a hell of a lot more straightforward than a fire-fight. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said.

Drake was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on Treece’s face. ‘Come up to my office afterwards.’

Treece’s hand drifted toward his shoulder holster after Drake had walked away. The reporter behind the glass had gone very still. Seeing Drake had shaken her. In contrast, Treece felt steadier than he had since arriving back in the US. He opened the door to the holding cell.

///

It was dark by the time Treece got back to the Life Foundation and up to Drake’s office. The secretary was gone, but Treece wasn’t the least bit surprised to see the light was still on in Drake’s office. He knocked.

‘Come in,’ Drake called.

He was typing something on his space-age computer, but locked the screen and stood when Treece walked in.

‘So. You killed for me,’ he said neutrally. 

Treece blinked, still surprised to hear him just come out and say it. Again. Drake was usually very careful, even when they were alone. Treece shifted his weight. ‘I killed for my paycheque. Same as any other job.’ 

Drake nodded thoughtfully. ‘I admire your professionalism.’

‘Thanks.’

‘You know, your family situation was actually a mark against you in the interview,’ Drake said out of nowhere.

‘Okay…?’ Treece said warily.

‘I could see the moment when you registered what I wanted from you. But you probably thought no family meant someone who could be disappeared quietly.’

Treece’s lips tightened, but he stayed silent. Drake could be eerily good at reading people sometimes. 

‘I actually prefer employees with family ties. For leverage. People don’t often understand what needs to be done. They get… squeamish. They need a little extra incentive.’

Treece was indifferent about a future where he might be called on to kill the family of one of Drake’s employees. It wouldn’t even rank in the top five worst things he’d done. Hell, some of the things he’d done in other parts of the world were technically war crimes. Drake probably knew that. ‘I don’t get squeamish.’

‘I know. That wasn’t quite what I was getting at.’ Drake paused. ‘I can trust someone who’s killed for me. Even before that, you knew I could make your life hell if I chose to. But for you to pull the trigger while on my payroll… Hm. There’s something almost intimate about that.’

Treece took a sharp step back. Every guilty thought, every sordid fantasy he’d had about Drake, came crashing down on him all at once. His pulse was racing so much faster than when he’d killed that journalist. 

Drake raised an eyebrow at Treece’s response. ‘Was I reading this wrong? If so, I apologise. I won’t do anything to risk our working relationship.’ He looked utterly sincere. And not the sincere he looked for the cameras. It was the kind of sincere he looked when he was asking about the dump-site for a body. 

In that moment Treece was struck with the iron certainty that Drake wasn’t lying. That he absolutely believed what he was saying. It meant Treece could mumble an excuse about not being gay and Drake would drop the topic. If that’s what he wanted. Treece wet his lips. ‘You didn’t read it wrong. I’ve just. It’s just dangerous to like men in the kinds of places I used to work. I thought I was hiding it.’

There was a spark of something intent in Drake’s eyes before it was quickly smothered. ‘If it helps, I don’t think it’s common knowledge. I make a habit of noticing things.’

Treece nodded warily. ‘So does that mean you’re…?’ he left the sentence hanging. 

Drake gave a wry smile. ‘Not quite. I'm probably best described as an… equal opportunities kind of person. I don't like to limit myself.’

Treece gave him a look. Drake sounded like he was describing a business venture rather than who he liked to fuck. Why couldn’t he just _say_ he swung both ways instead of talking like the cameras were on him? Then again, Treece was struggling to even say the word ‘gay’, so it wasn’t like he had room to judge. Old habits. He let out a long exhale. ‘Okay. Okay, I’m interested.’

Drake’s smile went from wry to something a lot sharper. ‘I really meant what I said about not jeopardising our professional relationship. I value you as a highly component security head first and foremost.’ 

‘And this is _not_ part of my job description,’ Treece said firmly. ‘If you even think the words “rough trade”, I’m walking out of here.’ 

Drake barked a laugh. ‘No. That’s not what this is.’ His head tilted slightly and the disconcerting stare came back. 'Don't take this the wrong way, but there are a lot of complicated things in my life. You are perfectly straightforward and that’s very refreshing.’

‘You know I've been hiding… this… for more than a decade now, right?’

‘I don't mean that. I mean that you’re a cold, efficient killer. Point and shoot. No hesitation. No doubt.’ He kept his tone light, but it didn’t match the look in his eyes as he said the last couple of words and Treece had to break his gaze. ‘And now I know I can trust you,’ Drake added softly.

Drake went over to his desk and scrawled something on the back of one of his business cards. The extra distance between them made it easier for Treece to breathe. Maybe that was why he’d done it. This time when he closed the distance between them again, Treece was ready and he took the card without hesitation. 

‘My address. Are you free tomorrow night?’ Drake asked.

Treece couldn’t remember a single thing about his schedule. ‘Yeah.’

‘Meet me there at eight. That card will get you past the doorman.’

Treece swallowed. ‘Okay.’

‘I’ll cook.’ Treece could only stare. Drake’s lips curved up in a small smile. 

///

Treece sat at the granite counter that defined the edge of Drake’s kitchen and tried not to think about how weird this was. It wasn’t candlelight and fine wine, which was good, because Treece was already disconcerted just to be in another guy’s house sharing a meal. But Drake had shed his suit-jacket and loosened his tie and rolled his shirtsleeves halfway up his fucking arms and it was bizarre. 

The food wasn’t anything he was used to either. In the military, and later in the field, he’d eaten bulk-produced stuff that was usually pretty hard to identify. Or field rations. Since he’d gotten back to the States he’d considered meat-and-two-veg to be the height of luxury, where he could tell exactly what each component was. This food kind of reminded him of the unidentifiable stuff that got served in mess halls, but this tasted _good_ and he was pretty sure that he would have been able to identify it better if he’d just known more about food.

‘It’s good,’ Treece said earnestly between mouthfuls. The conversation had been a little stilted. This was so unlike any of the sort of encounters he’d had before that he didn’t know quite what to do. For the first little while he’d avoided staring, instead watching Drake out of the corner of his eye or when his back was turned. Old habits. But then it became pretty clear that there wouldn’t be any _consequences_. No one was going to break down the door and drag them away. That sort of thing didn’t happen here, he reminded himself for the third time that evening. Besides, Drake wasn’t the sort of person who got dragged anywhere. He was the sort of person who ordered the dragging. And he wasn’t being the least bit subtle about the way _he_ was staring. 

‘I’m glad you like it,’ Drake replied. 

Treece fidgeted with his cutlery when he was done eating, reflexively testing the balance of the knife as if that mattered even a little bit. Drake watched Treece’s hands move before flicking his gaze back up. ‘Nervous? I didn’t pick you as the sort to be intimidated by me.’

Treece snorted as he put the cutlery down. ‘Not by you. Not really.’ And it was true. Sure, the kind of power money bought was scary in a distant, abstract kind of way, but even unarmed Treece could snap Drake like a twig, if it came to it. ‘Bad experiences,’ he added. 

Drake hummed and tilted his head. ‘My next guess would have been a lack of experience, but bad encounters makes more sense if you’ve been actively hiding your tastes.’

Treece shrugged. He wasn’t particularly keen on talking about it. Or thinking about it. The sort of soldiers who were perfectly willing to exchange straight bro handjobs in the dark could get _really_ nasty if they thought you were too into it.

‘Anything I can do to reassure?’

‘You could stop picking at it,’ Treece said tightly. He half expected Drake to get irritated, but he just gave a wry smile and stood, picking up their empty plates and placing them beside the sink.

‘Shall we then?’ Drake asked. That definitely counted as the weirdest invitation to fuck Treece had ever received, but then Drake ran his hand down the line of Treece’s arm, shoulder to wrist, and even that light touch was enough to send a shiver down his spine. 

Treece stood and followed Drake silently toward the bedroom. The room was huge, the bed was huge and there were probably a lot of other interesting things to notice, but Treece couldn’t take his eyes off Drake. His hands moved deftly over his tie, pulling out the knot in quick, practiced movements. He draped it over the back of a chair and closed the distance between them.

Treece froze the way he never did during combat. He had no idea what the rules were here. This was so far away from tense, secret moments of ‘stress relief’ with other soldiers or even the hasty encounters with local civilians that had even more to lose than he did. What was normal in a place like this, with immaculate sheets and a fucking doorman and Drake staring back at him with barefaced hunger?

‘Can I kiss you?’ Drake asked, his voice losing that smooth edge of his.

Treece’s heart thudded in his chest. First time he got his nose broken was trying to kiss someone in the barracks. Apparently that was more gay than having their hands on each other’s cocks. ‘Yeah.’

The first touch of Drake’s lips against his own broke through Treece’s frozen indecision. This was real. Drake wanted this, wanted _him_. Treece grabbed at Drake’s arm, his neck, his back, his waist, needing that reassuring feel of another warm person beneath his hands. He surged into the kiss, sucking on Drake’s lip before pushing in with his tongue. 

Drake let him, his head tilting to control the angle of the kiss. Treece’s breath punched out of him in a harsh gasp as smooth fingertips dragged across the skin over his ribs. Drake had managed to snake a hand under his shirt while he’d been distracted. The hand drifted lower until it traced the waistline of Treece’s pants. 

Every brush of skin against skin was maddening and Treece wanted more. He drew back far enough to break the kiss and start fumbling at the buttons on Drake’s shirt. His hands shook.

‘Allow me,’ Drake said, gently taking over the task.

Treece nearly tore his own shirt getting it off. And then Drake was sliding his shirt off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. Treece could only stare for a moment. The lights were on and his eyes drank in every detail. The smooth skin, the hard, angular planes of another male body, the trail of hair leading downwards to the obvious bulge in Drake’s pants. Just being able to _look_ and know that he didn’t have to hide his appreciation was dizzying. 

Drake was watching him right back, his eyes flitting across his body, settling on the scars, tracing the muscles in his arms, his chest. ‘That’s a fascinating history you’re carrying on your skin,’ Drake said.

Treece blinked. ‘Thanks?’ He’d never really been complimented about his body before. At least not like that. He was pretty sure it was a compliment. ‘You’re… ’ _gorgeous, hot, strangely beautiful_ ‘…good. You look good,’ Treece practically had to force the words out. Dangerous, dangerous to say it, his instincts kept chanting at him.

‘Thank you. I try,’ Drake said with a small smile.

Treece snorted and found himself relaxing a little. Yeah. Drake _did_ try and that was reassuring. He could get away with that because he had nothing to fear. Not here in the States, not in a big city, and not with the kind of wealth and power he had.

This time Treece closed the gap between them. He pressed himself against Drake’s body, bare chest against bare chest. There was hardly enough distance to kiss properly, but the faintest rasp of Drake’s stubble against his jaw made his nerves light up. He groped at Drake’s body, revelling in the chance to touch so much skin. Drake groaned and arched against him, the reaction clear enough that, in a moment of boldness, Treece grabbed his ass and pulled him closer still. 

Treece’s breath stuttered in his chest. That was Drake’s hard-on right against his own, only a few layers of cloth separating them. He rutted against him, the friction a bit too harsh, a bit too dry, and enough to drive him crazy. Drake moved sinuously, the grind of his hips more deliberate and just as maddening. ‘Come on. Let’s take this to the bed,’ Drake said against Treece’s neck.

That was a better idea than coming in his pants like a teenager, even if it meant pulling away and losing that contact. Treece fumbled to get his shoes off and remove the last few bits of clothing. He could barely remember the last time he’d been fully naked for sex. When he’d had that _luxury_. 

He finished just in time to look up and catch Drake dragging his boxers off. He had a nice dick. ‘Well?’ Drake said. Treece realised he’d been staring again and lifted his gaze up to Drake’s face. Drake was smirking at him. ‘Come here.’

Treece walked over, feeling a little unsteady. Drake planted a hand in the centre of his chest and pushed him toward the bed. Treece let himself go down, but he wrapped a hand around Drake’s wrist and tugged him down too. They landed together in a sprawl of limbs and bare skin. Treece ran his hands over Drake’s back and kissed and licked at the tendons in his neck. He was just about to reach down between them when Drake pulled away and shifted down the bed. 

Treece pushed himself up on his elbows as Drake settled between his legs. He trailed a hand up the inside of Treece’s thigh and wrapped a hand around his cock. Then without breaking eye contact he leaned forward and ran his tongue around the head in one torturously slow sweep. Treece’s arms gave out and his head thudded back against the covers. He wasn’t… this didn’t… fuck. The last time he’d had this had been so long ago and – and Drake had stopped. Treece looked up and found himself pinned by Drake’s steady gaze.

‘I suppose it would be cruel to make you say it. To ask for what you wanted,’ Drake said thoughtfully. 

Treece’s guts clenched, fear and desire lying close enough to be a single overwhelming feeling. To say it _out loud_ , to admit to exactly what he wanted. Like that was something he could have. Like he didn’t have to hide it. Just the thought of it made Treece twitch in Drake’s hand. The habitual fear was strong enough that Treece could taste it in the back of his throat, but while there were a lot of things he could be called, ‘coward’ wasn’t one of them.

‘I… I want it,’ he croaked. His mouth was desert-dry and he swallowed a couple of times. Drake was staring at him like he was the most interesting thing in the world. ‘I want your mouth. I want you to… to suck me.’ 

Drake licked his lips and his smile looked unbalanced. ‘Good,’ he breathed. He bent down again and this time he took the head of Treece’s cock in his mouth and sucked. The wet heat made Treece gasp and it took everything he had not to grab Drake’s head and thrust up. Drake’s hand was still on him too, but his mouth was taking in more each moment until Drake let go and braced both his hands on Treece’s thighs. 

His head bobbed up and down and it felt like one smooth glide. Drake was relentless, his breath was a controlled hiss through his nose and his tongue pressed against the underside of Treece’s cock. A ragged noise escaped Treece. That had to be Drake’s _throat_ squeezing down around him. It couldn’t have been easy, couldn’t have been the first time Drake had done this. That thought made tremors run through Treece’s body. Drake was _showing off_. Treece’s thighs flexed beneath Drake’s hands as he held himself back. He tapped him urgently on the shoulder. ‘Close,’ he managed to rasp, barely recognising the sound of his own voice.

Drake gave a considering hum that Treece felt against his cock, but he drew away. His hand was instantly back and he jerked Treece off with harsh, efficient strokes slickened with his own spit. Treece’s orgasm hit him hard enough to white out his vision. 

He blinked to clear his eyes and saw Drake staring down at him. This close up Treece could see how much of Drake’s pupils had swallowed his irises. Drake’s hand was a burning point of contact against Treece’s thigh. His other hand was between his legs and he was jerking himself just as quick and harsh as he’d handled Treece a second ago. 

Treece started to push himself up and reach for Drake, a vague idea of returning the favour crossing his slow, post-sex thoughts. ‘Stay right there,’ Drake demanded, his rhythm not faltering for an instant, even as his other hand dug into the meat of Treece’s thigh. ‘Just let me…’ Treece nodded and let himself fall back against the covers. Drake’s breath hissed out between his teeth. ‘Yes.’ 

Drake’s gaze raked down his body. That this was what Drake wanted, that he was getting off on what he’d done with Treece sent a jolt of heat straight through him. He couldn’t get hard again that fast, but his body seemed to be trying. When Drake came he tensed up like it hurt, but his eyes stayed wide open, fixed on Treece. 

There was a suspended moment when they both stared at each other, silent except for the panting breath. Drake moved first, stretching out to grab a few tissues from the box on his bedside table. He cleared away the worst of it. 

Something about that sparked Treece’s thoughts. ‘Protection,’ he said out loud. He glanced at Drake, remembering the smooth way he’d taken Treece’s cock, no hesitation.

Drake raised an eyebrow. ‘I have your medical records. I know you’re clean.’ He hesitated. ‘I suppose it’s only fair if you want to see mine.’

Treece stared at him blankly. Then he wet his lips. ‘If we do this again.’

‘Yes.’

Treece thought about how strongly Drake had reacted to his halting requests. ‘I want to do that again. And I want to touch you next time.’

Drake’s answering smile was about as far from his PR smile as it was possible to get. ‘Good.’


End file.
